


Start Real Slow

by drea_rev



Category: Bayonetta (Video Games)
Genre: (and fascism too, BayoJan - Freeform, Bayojeanne, Biphobia, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Internalized Biphobia, Jeannetta - Freeform, Lemon bars, Lesbian Sex, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Wholesome, but that's not in this fic at least), racism mention, there is racism in the lgbt community
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 04:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14866704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drea_rev/pseuds/drea_rev
Summary: Pride was so fun and festive and then Monday hit me like a brick and I'm coping with work related stress. This is going to be sex and grammar/spelling mistake heavy. And for once, it's from Bayonetta's POV.This fic takes place a few weeks after Our Vacay in the same timeline where they weren't together during the witch wars or the events of Bayonetta 1. Please enjoy <3





	1. Chapter 1

Bayonetta felt a bit odd waiting in the dark vestibule with her stuffed cat. 

Cheshire was looking a bit worse for wear, but it would have been the same if she'd just picked up a brand new Bulbasaur from the Build-A-Bear Factory to any of Jeanne's neighbors had they seen her. She always brought him to sleepovers at Jeanne's, though.

And before Bayonetta could start to fret even more about whether their first actual sex night would count as a sleepover, Jeanne finally answered the door.

"Oh. Hi, Cheshire," the other witch said. She turned to look at something Bayonetta couldn't see. "I think Charles is waiting for you, dear."

And Bayonetta stepped in, beckoned over to a newly set up dollhouse in the front foyer. This room filled her with comfort. The dollhouse was beyond an antique, their having played with it hundreds of years ago. DVDs and books Jeanne and Bayonetta traded were stacked on the table next to it, as well as that old clay statue of them as kids. Reminders of a kind and close friendship.

Bayonetta leaned in to peek at the second floor bedroom of the dollhouse. Jeanne's handsome red Charles was lying in a miniature bed there, and Jeanne untucked his little coverlet. Bayonetta moved forward and carefully nestled Cheshire beside the other cat, where he seemed to fit perfectly. Jeanne tucked both cats in and pulled a little comforter over them for good measure.

"They have fur coats," Bayonetta said.

Jeanne just murmured "It's going to be a cold night."

Bayonetta took a step toward the thermometer attached to the window. Fifty degrees. She hadn't noticed how chilly it had been while fighting angels earlier then. As she touched the glass, cold tingled against her fingertips, and she drew back. "Oh, dear."

"They say they're scared of the dark," Jeanne said.

Bayonetta looked around and picked up the night light. It was shaped like a crescent moon and glowed softly yellow. She plugged it in.

The light made all their possessions look even more safe and yet mysterious, and the dollhouse look like a manor on a hill. It also lit the cats' bedroom through a tiny window. Now they wouldn't be scared.

This was Jeanne's and Bayonetta's sleepover ritual every time. It was the best. It was even better now that the dollhouse was up on the table and not on the floor so they had to hunch over while playing in it. Even the passersby would be able to enjoy how cool it looked.

And Bayonetta turned to Jeanne. "Maybe you. Well. Were right. I think if we lose... _this_ , I'll die, Jeanne." 

Jeanne shook her head. She took Bayonetta's hand and waved her away from the night light and the dollhouse. "They need their beauty rest, sweetie. This discussion of personal anxieties business has a room of its own."

Bayonetta turned and looked at the warm scene one more time, sighed, and then leaned against Jeanne as they walked away together.

 

_**B** _

 

The laundry room. Jeanne had meant her laundry room.

"Honestly, you just forgot your laundry!" Bayonetta tutted, folding her arms. Jeanne was moving wet clothes from one machine to another. "Here I was thinking..."

But she didn't want to put that into words. Because she had sort of been obsessing about having sex with her best friend all day. And she knew it was either showing or moments away from showing.

Bayonetta had more experience with sex than she cared to remember. Just not sex with women. And she hadn't thought it would make her feel like this; ignorant, silly, embarrassed.

Like the feelings she had for Jeanne didn't deserve to be real, because she didn't know how to sexually communicate them properly anyway.

Her reverie was interrupted as Jeanne snapped the dryer shut.

Bayonetta walked over. She just...wanted. Needed. Physical closeness. Jeanne opened her arms as she straightened up. Bayonetta wriggled into the embrace.

"I'm nervous," Bayonetta whispered. The rumble of the dryer made her voice quieter. But she knew Jeanne had heard her. Her lips had been right under the other woman's ear.

She either heard or felt Jeanne take a long breath, and then she definitely felt her hands rubbing Bayonetta's back.

"Sweetie...I'm going to give you time, ok?" Jeanne whispered back.

And they separated just enough to make eyes at each other.

"Please, Cereza. Give yourself time, too."

 

_**B** _

 

Jeanne had pulled the sheets halfway down and folded them over the comforter, over which a few objects were arranged. Bayonetta sat down nervously on the edge of the mattress and made herself turn to look at them. 

They were books. Just books. She exhaled and picked one up, noticing red slips of paper sticking out.

"Jeanne? I..." Bayonetta called. The other witch was in the kitchen. Bayonetta shivered a bit, irrationally upset to be left to her own devices.

She'd always loved having time to herself. But with Jeanne, it was different. Each minute they didn't spend close meant a minute closer to that damned alarm clock that would wake Jeanne up in the morning and herald a day teaching history.

"What's the matter?"

Jeanne brushed past her, setting a plate of lemon bars beside her hips. Jeanne was eating one already. Bayonetta grabbed for one, only to have her hand snapped away. "Do you think I want my books all sticky? They'll wait for you after you've done reading."

"But...but _you're_ eating one!"

Jeanne fed the other half of hers to Bayonetta. It was just as tangy and sweet as always. Bayonetta licked her lips after finishing it and pulled the first book closer.

The highlighted pages were actually quite brief...and the more she read them, the better she felt. A few of the books were just about relationships in general. and two were about relationships between women. It seemed like Jeanne had selected these particular passages out of many because of how relevant she'd thought they would be for Bayonetta. And wasn't that just like her? To look out for Bayonetta?

Bayonetta looked up with a deep inhale. "Jeanne. Where. Are. You." She hadn't realized she had become snuggled under the comforter, hadn't noticed she was on the last book, her chest feeling warm from one affirming passage after another. "All of these chores, you could have handled them during daylight hours. I need you."

"I was napping," came a muffled voice from maybe the bathroom. "And I forgot that this was hand wash only."

Bayonetta gritted her teeth, glaring at the bathroom door. She finished the book, her homework, and on the heels of the warmth came a chilly and open vulnerability. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself.

Jeanne flopped on the other side of the bed. She padded on hands and knees over to Bayonetta, peeked down at her, then at the plate. "Did I add too much pudding today? You haven't touched them."

"No, dear. I'm just...it's sinking in," Bayonetta looked sadly up at her. "A lot of...a lot of my, my personality. Comes from. Well. experience. Knowing what to expect. And...and it's...it feels _undignified_ not to have that."

Jeanne was looking down at her, and Bayonetta felt a desperate gratitude at being so completely listened to, right now. She hurried on, not wanting to waste Jeanne's time; "I. I just. The unknown. It's frightening. Because I know it's--it's more complicated, and different, and there's--there's so many jokes and right now they're not funny to me, they sound like I should take them literally, but that's...the stereotypes, I don't like them either--"

"You think your experience doesn't count?"

That made Bayonetta sit up in bed, at Jeanne's eye level now. "It's only with men! It--it doesn't!"

"You aren't going to need two separate versions of your personality. Not if you don't want to," Jeanne said softly. Just barely erring on the side of gentle-enough-to-be-condescending, but not there. "Bayonetta...Cereza...there's only one you. And everything inside that is good enough for me."

It took a moment for what she said to click in Bayonetta's head.

"Well. No. I. That's not going to work. You'd hate to see the me I am when I'm. When I'm fucking Luka. Jesus. I know you think it's gross--"

Jeanne stopped her. "Who are you when you're fucking Luka?"

"You--you dislike nothing more than hearing about him! _You said it yourself!_ "

Jeanne fed her another lemon bar. "If you only knew."

"If I only knew what?" 

"Eat up, sweetie," The witch's smile was beautiful in the dark. The streetlights and windows of other apartment buildings set off her eyes, her teeth. "You've got too many butterflies in your stomach right now. If you only knew how I get off to thinking about you two together."

Bayonetta almost choked on her third lemon bar. "You're _fucking_ with me."

"You wish."

"You're making this up as you go along!"

"You don't believe me? I know it doesn't make sense," Jeanne stretched out on her back. "It isn't supposed to. Sometimes what turns you on is a hair's breadth away from what terrifies you. Sometimes it _does_ terrify you. Sometimes playing with that fear feels good. And sometimes you don't want to, and just want it all safe. It's private. It's yours."

Bayonetta had crawled up to lay alongside Jeanne as she spoke, and now stared at her. "But you haven't actually. Thought about it. While..."

Her pause had gone on for a few seconds too long before Jeanne finished it for her. 

"...masterbating?" Jeanne said. "You really don't believe me."

She rolled onto her tummy. Bayonetta straightened up into a kneel, and slipped closer to Jeanne, almost not believing her eyes. But then she had to not believe her ears, either, listening to Jeanne pant and begin to mewl. And then she had to stretch her disbelief into the movement of the mattress, and the warmth when she touched Jeanne's shoulder, and no, that was going too far. It was real. And she _wanted_ it. Badly.

"I...like to think about you and him...I like to think about you dominating him...because you have him wrapped around your finger..."

"He wraps _himself_ around people's fingers," Bayonetta deadpanned under her breath, glancing under the sheet, desperate to know where Jeanne's hand was. "Please, Jeanne. Roll on your side--whichever is most comfortable--let me see--"

Jeanne rolled onto her side, and Bayonetta immediately cradled her head and neck, but looked down as she did so, traced Jeanne's long arm to where it was causing pleasure--it was difficult to see the exact spot, her hand covered most of her labia and clit--but Bayonetta made multiple mental notes about the rhythm and timing and types of movements Jeanne favored,listened to how they coincided with her breathing--

She realized they were both sweaty. Jeanne's sweat was mixing with and accentuating her Nest Midnight Fleur fragrance, and Bayonetta had been too nervous to put on Guilty Black tonight, choosing Clean Warm Cotton. So she smelled very similar to what Jeanne's clothes would when they were done tumbling in the dryer.

"Jeanne..."

Bayonetta kissed the other witch's forehead, barely creased as she fought closer to orgasm. It made Jeanne look up and smile at her, before gasping deeply. Bayonetta grabbed her tighter as her body arched.

"You." Bayonetta murmured.

Jeanne was still too far gone to answer, rocking her head back, and Bayonetta maneuvered her back onto the pillow. She pressed her lips over Jeanne's mischievously, and thrilled when she heard Jeanne moan in pleasure in response. 

Bayonetta opened her eyes barely to notice Jeanne's were still closed. Even through her movements and her fast breaths through her nose...the kiss was good for her. 

_Fuck...If she likes it...then..._

Bayonetta pulled herself over Jeanne and cradled her face in her hands and deepened the kiss, slanting her face at an angle to make it more comfortable. _That's something I know how to do_.

Jeanne moaned even louder, her pleasure catching through Bayonetta's lips as she closed her eyes too. Bayonetta felt the witch's fingertips running up the back of her neck and playing with her hair. She would never get tired of that feeling, she was sure of it, as Jeanne eased into climax under her and her entire body shuddered.

Bayonetta broke the kiss. But even in gasping breaths, Jeanne whispered for more, _now_ , and Bayonetta couldn't turn down those suddenly pleading eyes and slipped Jeanne underneath her tongue again. The way Jeanne relaxed then, Bayonetta cradling her behind the ears--the way her hands fell to her sides, as her breaths slowly lengthened and slowed--Bayonetta couldn't handle it. It was making her far wetter than she usually got from a kiss, but then this wasn't. Just. A kiss.

And when they finally did part, a lot of saliva still connected them, and Bayonetta caught it and brushed it away as if breaking a spiderweb. She leant her cheek on her hand and made eyes at Jeanne for a minute as they both caught their breath, occasionally brushing her cheek with the back of her hand.

 

_**B** _

 

"I've been meaning to talk to you about Liana. About what she said to you."

Bayonetta rolled her eyes. "What about her? You didn't--do anything to her at that pool party you went to with--"

"Tammy."

"Because I can ask her if you behaved yourself. Don't lie."

Jeanne sat up, and Bayonetta didn't move away, leaning on her shoulder instead, comfortably straddling one of Jeanne's legs. The other witch picked up her Gatorade from the nightstand and took a long sip.

"Jeanne. I won't have you ruining your reputation over me. Forget it."

"I spilled my drink on her. Ash kicked me out. I didn't want to waste the entire day there anyway." What a Jeanne excuse. "That doesn't matter now. The problem is she was your first exposure. And the things she said to you--"

"Are often true," Bayonetta said stubbornly, ignoring the pain surfacing from those memories. It had been in a very similar bedroom, and with a similar lack of clothing on the behalf of both participants.

"Look, Cereza. Liana had a bad experience with a bisexual girl once. Once. So she decided to hate you all. She had a bad experience with a black woman once too, so they're off the table for _some_ reason. Completely."

Bayonetta's mouth fell open.

"Getting the idea? When I used to have her on facebook--god knows why--she was in Florida for vacation. It was windy and rainy the weekend she went. She posted that Florida wasn't actually hot--"

Bayonetta muttered, "I don't believe it."

"Look her up! It was in March! Look her up, her profile's public."

Bayonetta gave the other witch a look as she retrieved her phone and squinted at the screen. Jeanne slipped her glasses over her eyes, and the typed words became clearer. Liana's profile was full of namaste and eat pray love memes. " _Jesus_."

"You _just_ missed it," Jeanne murmured, resting her chin over Bayonetta's shoulder, pointing at the screen. "Go back up."

Bayonetta read it slowly out loud. "'It's been sixty degrees the entire time I've been up here. Florida isn't actually hot.' Maybe she's being ironic, honey. Oh. Oh there's tons of people commenting and _agreeing with her_ that Florida is cold--"

"You just can't see the entire world with one pair of eyes at once, Bayonetta."

"But--"

"Stereotypes are training wheels for the bitch's mind," Jeanne said.

Bayonetta took a deep breath, blinked, and looked over to Jeanne. "Florida is going to be not only hot, but swelteringly incendiary until the damned sun runs out of helium and hydrogen to burn. That's not--that is not a debate."

"And black women are a diverse set of individuals that cannot possibly be defined by dating just one person, or fifty, or a thousand. And what she told you isn't true."

Bayonetta dropped her phone off the edge of the bed. It bounced harmlessly in its case. She turned back to Jeanne, rubbing her temples. "But I can see...where she's coming from. You know? I think...it's scary, right? Fear that you'll lose someone to...the gender you're not interested in?"

Jeanne shook her head with a strange amount of patience.

"But...isn't that scary?"

Jeanne said, "She told you that you couldn't be what you already are. That you couldn't feel what you're already feeling. And it _convinced_ you. So that you're doubting yourself even as you're experiencing it."

And Bayonetta exhaled a breath she felt like she'd been holding in for a long time.

"Whatever fears she or I have--whatever they're connected to, that doesn't have anything to do with you. It's so ugly to let that jealousy, that insecurity out and then claim it's a strength in your character. claim you're standing up for yourself when you're putting someone else down. Anyone can be dumped by anyone, Bayonetta. We lie to ourselves that it hurts less when they go on to choose someone we think shares at least some qualities with us. Petty squabbles over things like this happen all the time."

Bayonetta's voice was nervous when she replied. "So...what...did you mean by first exposure?"

And Jeanne pulled Bayonetta into her arms at that. Bayonetta sucked in a gasp and wriggled, her body registering another spike of pleasure. 

 "If I had my way, I would've made sure you had a good one."

"Why is it important...?"

"Your first exposure..." Jeanne's eyes caught hers, "...has a tendency to cast the mold of what to expect in the future. It doesn't matter if you have a hundred completely different experiences afterward, they become the exception to the rule."

"And the rule is every lesbian I date is going to bring up the gold star malarkey. Isn't that right?" Ice seemed to trickle down her back as she said it. 

Jeanne's hand slipped down her back moments later and Bayonetta changed her posture by reflex.

"I really," Jeanne muttered, " _really_ wish it could have been anyone but Liana."

"So just a lot, then. Not all."

"A lot of 'gold star' lesbians. Lie about it. Because here's the thing; a damned lot of us have been with men. We weren't all given a choice when we were younger. It's a different type of dick measuring contest where you win by revealing how pure you are. Of course you don't have to try it to find out you don't like it, but it's a very common way we find out who we really are, what we really want. Being with men before shouldn't be a purity pageant question whether you liked the experience or not. It's unimportant. And I honestly think it was invented because we wanted to exclude you all."

Bayonetta's hands were fists now. "Well. Fuck. If she lied--because I--I grabbed my things and left trying not to cry and I--I felt like such a--because I told her when we'd already gotten into bed--"

Jeanne was opening her arms again. Bayonetta snuggled in, and Jeanne took her hand and passed it comfortably under her lips.

"It-it _was_ a bad first experience. It-it made me. Terrified of telling you. Jeanne, thoughts of how you'd react--how disgusted you'd be--I fretted on it for so long. If she hadn't said that--I'd feel safer telling people in the future I'm bi..." Bayonetta shook her head, as if it was an Etch-a-Sketch, to get rid of the images within. "Dear. Let's. Let's get away from that for a minute, okay?" She inhaled sharply and tried to stretch out the exhale. "I'm spent, thinking about it."

Jeanne's fingers were in her hair, then behind her ears, then tickling her cheekbones. And then so many kisses began, on her brows, her nose, all over her cheeks. Bayonetta started to chuckle as Jeanne tickled her at the back of her neck, trailing kisses down her bare shoulders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sleep claimed Cereza far too early, while they traded kisses and caresses. She _wanted_ to stay awake--was filled with so much sudden zeal for Jeanne that sleep seemed like wasting time.

But her eyelids were heavy. And she was becoming annoyed by her own yawns, to the point that she swore after one. It gave Jeanne a laughing fit.

Bayonetta flopped onto the mattress in mock anguish. She quickly realized she wasn't getting up anytime soon, however.

"What did you put in those lemon bars?" She snapped.

Jeanne chuckled even more. Her body lay alongside Cereza's, but on her side. She brought her friend's fingers up from where they'd been gently stimulating Jeanne's inner labia and kissed the knuckles.

Bayonetta wasn't satisfied with what she had learned yet. She hadn't yet been able to make Jeanne climax. Jeanne nibbling on her hand and looking appreciatively down at her as she nodded off wasn't a view she would give up anytime soon, however.

It was clear. It felt right. The further they went, the more comfortable Bayonetta became...in this new bed, opening her new heart. 

It had been like this when Jeanne used to secretly teach her magic, too. Light and warm. Her lover was a born teacher.


End file.
